In This Rainfall We Persist
by thesnowfeather
Summary: With the Institute long since destroyed, tensions are on the rise between the Minutemen and the Brotherhood of Steel. A few within the Commonwealth are thrown into the heat of it, and find themselves questioning if this is still their fight.
1. The Merc With the Alcohol

It has been three years since the fall of the Institute at the hands of the Minutemen. Three years since the Commonwealth shook to its very core, and the mushroom cloud rose high above us. Three years since settlers have cried out for their missing loved ones in the dark. It has been three years since fear and misfortune were banished.

In those three years, a lot has changed. The Minutemen have increased their ranks and influence upon the Commonwealth. The Railroad has expanded it's operations and stepped out of the shadows. The Brotherhood of Steel has continued to be an unwelcome presence.

The Commonwealth is at peace now. The roads have been secured by the Minutemen, no longer just a militia but an army. The number of settlements under the Minutemen flag grows steadily as the provisioners reach new settlements and spread the word. Raider attacks are infrequent, with settler life becoming much more appealing. Super mutants and feral ghouls have been pushed back to the Glowing Sea. The Commonwealth is by no means a safe place, but it is beginning to feel like one.

* * *

 _Snow_  
 _The Castle, Commonwealth_  
 _September 25, 2291 19:37_

I live in the warehouse loft atop The Castle's northeast bastion. The Minutemen headquarters are a hub of constant activity, but up here there is quiet. Large windows overlook the ocean's endless expanse, and as a I stand there staring out it allows me to forget about all about my responsibilities down below.

Across the bay to the north is the glow of Boston Airport, the Brotherhood of Steel's home base. The main threat to the Minutemen. Hovering above it is the Prydwen, the Brotherhood's massive airship. Anything but subtle, though I guess that was never the intent. I find myself staring out at that ship, every night, and wishing there wasn't so much bad blood. Wishing that we weren't on the brink of war. Wishing I could see my soldier now.

Especially tonight. I'm not one for these social events, especially since the man I wish to attend with is my own bit of 'classified' information. The idea of sitting around watching everyone else dance almost makes me want a drink. Almost.

I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window and sigh deeply, the chill of the ocean wind seeps into my skull and I close my eyes. I can hear the waves crash against the stone walls below. I stay there for a few minutes, before I must prepare for the evening.

Pulling off my sweater off over my head and tossing it on the bed, I reach for the top drawer of the dresser when my terminal dings. I pause, glancing towards the window, where the curtains are tied back. Ah screw it, I think to myself with a grin. Reaching into the drawer, I pull out a purple dress and black blazer. I slip out of the rest of my loungewear and into the outfit. A quick check on my makeup, where Cricket finds this purple eyeliner I don't know, but I love it.

I check the terminal, now three messages waiting for me:

 _Hello gorgeous._  
 _Don't ever close those curtains._  
 _No interference from BOS today. Please enjoy._

I salute out the window toward the Prydwen with a laugh before heading down the stairs, leaving a pile of clothing on the floor. He can think about that for a while, wherever he watches from. As I step out the warehouse door a gust of wind comes off the ocean and whips around my dress. I quickly try to push it down, gathering it to the side. Well, he can think about that as well. I run to the next set of stairs to escape the wind.

The General is in the concourse of the main Castle walls and I deliver my report, "I suspect no interference from the Brotherhood today. They've been quite focused on the area north of Salem."

"Do we know why?" He is much taller than I am, and his voice is commanding. I always feel nervous around the General.

"No, but I have Coastal Cottage looking into it." Coastal Cottage, and my Brotherhood soldier. It's not a lie to simply leave out details, right? I try to push the thought from my mind.

"Thank you, Snow. Tonight shall be fun, yes?"

I nod, hoping he's right. The General, Nate, is an impressive man. Rebuilding the Minutemen from scratch into a powerful and compassionate army, while uniting the Commonwealth under one flag. Tonight is a Minutemen party, one of General Nate's 'morale boosting' prewar traditions. A night of music, dancing, and more. Except drinking.

The Castle does not serve alcohol. It is not forbidden, there are no rules against consumption within the grounds and ranks of the Minutemen. It just is not sold within the Castle walls. The caravans keep it tucked away during their visits. The Castle is a safe space for those recovering, to stay strong and make their own consumption choices.

And that sucks miremeat. A solid glass of whiskey takes the edge off at these social events. I am no longer the hopeless drunk I once was, and I learned control, so alcohol has become a tool rather than a crutch. Having to leave the Castle to stock my liquor cabinet was rarely feasible, however.

So that evening I sit at the dry bar, my back to dance floor of twirling settlers, and stare blankly at the rows of Nuka-Cola on the shelf. The room has been decorated and a small stage set up across from the bar. A group of settlers on the stage call themselves a band, playing handmade instruments.

I let my mind wander, imagining my sweet Brotherhood soldier and I twirling across an empty dance floor. I let out a sigh, probably too loudly. Someone sits down beside me, I continue to stare ahead.

"Two Nukas, cherry, please," the voice from beside me is a perky young man, one I do not recognize. I risk a glance sideways. He is handsome, no doubt there. A well-kept goatee, short brown hair beneath a blue hat. There are a few bullets tucked into the rim of his hat.

The bartender delivers the Nukas, and this stranger pushes one toward me. He reaches into his bag and digs around until he pulls out a bottle. I raise one eyebrow at him and he laughs. His blue eyes are shining in the twinkling dance floor lights and that smile is … enticing.

"Who are you?" I ask, unable to hide my curiosity. He certainly isn't in the Minutemen ranks, and I don't recognize him from any of the settlements.

"Nate asked me here," he responds, "Says you need to visit some settlements. I'll be getting you there in one piece." He winks.

I glance up at the bullets in his hat, and down to the bullets wrapped around his leg. "You're a merc, eh?"

"You point and I shoot. Now, it's time for you to relax and try a Nuka-cherry vodka."

I'm half out of my seat to find Nate, I don't need protection to travel, when I hear the word vodka. I pause. Oh what I wouldn't do for even a sip. I stare him down, contemplating my options.

"Look, the name is MacCready. A mercenary, and an old friend of your General Nate. And I have what you clearly need," he swishes the bottle around and my mouth goes dry.

I sit back down, lacking the desire to resist. This is why the Castle does not serve alcohol. I knock the top off a Nuka and pass it to MacCready, who adds the vodka and passes it back. After mixing his own, he slips the vodka back into his bag before anyone sees.

We clink bottles and take a swig. The libation is ice cold and smooth, a welcome feeling on my throat. "Alright Merc, I'm Snow."

I see the General approaching and wipe my mouth. He pats MacCready on the back, then turns to me. "I see you've met Mac? I think he'll be a perfect guide for you, if you can keep him out of trouble."

"Sure, Nate. And how do I know she won't put a bullet in my back?" MacCready's response lacks even a hint of seriousness, all smile. The General and MacCready laugh loudly. I take a long sip of the spiked Nuka.

The General composes himself, "You two will leave in the morning. Snow has her itinerary, visit the settlements and get them set up. Then Snow can take her vacation. I'll see you back here in three days, Mac."

"I dunno, a vacation sounds nice. What do you say, Snow, need some company?"

I roll my eyes and take my leave. Holding the Nuka above my head without looking back I shout, "Thanks for the drink, Merc."


	2. Avis Paul

_Snow_  
 _The Castle Warehouse Loft, Commonwealth_  
 _September 25, 2291 21:42_

Back in my quarters, it is dark. I light a single candle near my terminal and settle in to my armchair by the window. The view is spectacular, moonlight and stars reflecting upon the ocean for miles. I watch as lightning strikes the horizon in a distant storm and wonder what is out there beyond this ocean.

Another ding from the terminal, I take a sip and turn toward it. A flash of lightning, then another ding. I turn to the terminal.

 _Hello, dear._  
 _Are you drinking?_

Instead of responding I take a long sip of the vodka, then let my dress fall off my shoulders and puddle around my ankles, slowly, and put on just my sweater. That will drive him crazy. Not to mention the candlelight barely illuminates the show.

 _Only a little._  
 _If you say so, dear._  
 _I promise._  
 _I will be at the cabin in three nights._

 _Three nights_ , I confirm, then switch off the terminal. I have to visit five settlements before then, with a merc babysitter likely slowing me down, but then I will have two nights with my soldier. I sink into bed, thinking about his strong arms wrapped around me.

* * *

 _Snow_  
 _West of Walden Pond, Edge of the Commonwealth_  
 _May, 2288_

It was years ago that I met Avis, while taking personal time from the Minutemen. I was at my cabin, tucked away near Walden Pond in the western mountains.

A vertibird had crashed, in near pristine condition, and I found myself fixing it up. My dreams became of flight, of soaring across the Commonwealth, discovering what lay beyond the western mountains or the eastern ocean.

I foolishly did not consider the Brotherhood of Steel returning for the vertibird.

It was dark, I was passed out on my porch with a bottle spilled across my lap. My head pounded, from some low beeping sound. Someone had tripped my alert system.

I stumbled awake, reaching for my rifle and missing. I crashed to the porch floor in a drunken stupor. "Fuck!" I muttered loudly and reached for my head, a stinging pain near my ear. The rifle had slid across the porch out of reach.

A light switched on, blinding me, and I tried to shield my eyes. As my eyes adjusted, the silhouette of power armor took shape. There was no way I could fight someone with power armor.

"Well ma'am, I'd be interested but it seems you're as sober as a ghoul," the sarcasm in his voice made my face flush with anger. His weapon was lowered, he saw no threat in me. I was a damn mess. I tried to stand, and managed to lean on the porch railing.

"Why are you here?" I demanded, but it sounded weak and tired.

"Brotherhood of Steel, ma'am. Details not for civvies. I was hoping this cabin was abandoned for the night."

"Well it's not, and it's mine," I barked.

"I understand, ma'am. I'll move along."

I nodded and watched as he walked away into the dark. It was time for me to get out of those beer soaked clothes and into bed. I didn't make it far before my head unceremoniously met with the porch floor again. Damn that hurt.

I gave up and closed my eyes when I felt metal lift me. "I'll keep you safe," he promised as I drifted into sleep.

The next morning I woke in my bed to an empty cabin. There was a pot of instamash on the stove, still warm. _My stranger made breakfast, how sweet_ , I thought sarcastically. I grabbed a bowl and ate on the porch as the sun rose.

It was my last day before returning to the Castle, so I needed to hide the Vertibird and strip its vital parts. It was rare for anyone to be up in the mountains, but I didn't want to take any chances. I headed out to the crash site.

As I approached the vertibird, I saw empty power armor nearby. Was that why he was here, to retrieve the vertibird? I scanned the area and spotted him examining the landing gear.

"That's my bird," I shouted, weapon raised and aimed.

"I see, you've done remarkably well with the repairs. She looks ready to fly."

"Back away, let's not do this the hard way."

"Of course," he laughed, "Because you're sober and ready to fight now."

He climbed into the cockpit and held out a hand, "How about you come for a ride?"

"So you can take me to the Brotherhood? Not a chance."

"No. So we can test out your work. We'll land right back here in this clearing, I promise. The Brotherhood will never know."

If ever there was a time not to trust him, it was the night before, and he did no harm then. Reluctantly, I took his hand and he pulled me up.

"Alright, take us up," he grinned at me. He waited for a response and when I didn't offer one his head cocked to one side.

"I don't know how," I admitted. I had never flown, and I had only just gotten the repairs completed.

"What was your plan?"

"Figured I'd wing it," I responded sheepishly, eyes focused on my hands.

"You're a clever one! Wing it," he laughed to himself. His laugh was spirited and brought out a new feeling within me. Was it happiness? "New plan, I'll teach you."

We lifted into the air and headed out over the mountains to the west, away from the Commonwealth. We didn't speak, just took in the beauty of the land. The wind whipped around the cabin and through my hair. At first, it was difficult to breath but eventually I found my rhythm again. That feeling from before grew, a warmth in my chest, something I had not felt before.

He was focused on the controls, and I took the opportunity to really look him over. His eyes were bright, hazel, and they seemed to be alive with the thrill of flight. His hair was the typical military cut, a light chestnut brown. There was a dark scar across his right temple, running from the corner of his eye back into his hair. He was wearing green Brotherhood fatigues, the pockets all stuffed full. He was nice to look at, that was sure.

As we landed back in the clearing, he broke the silence.

"Lancer-Captain Avis Paul, ma'am. I'm reporting this bird as destroyed to the Brotherhood. She's yours now, if you let me visit and teach you to fly." He took my hand in his and smiled. I smiled back, my heart and head was pounding. Was I still drunk?

It was months before I saw him again.


	3. Mercs Have Feelings Too

_Snow_  
 _The Castle, Commonwealth_  
 _September 26, 2291_

Some mornings, the sun rises over the Castle as fog rolls in from the ocean. It looks as if the world is on fire. There used to be a saying about red skies in the morning, but there are no patterns to the weather anymore. Only the radiation.

As I descend the staircase to the Castle courtyard, I risk a glance across the bay to the Prydwen. Is he there, watching me now? The fog has erased the airship from existence. Even on a clear day, it is impossible to see any details of the Boston Airport. The technology Avis uses to see that far must be impressive.

The merc is waiting near the Castle entrance, leaning against the ancient stone wall with his duster swaying in the breeze. There's a lit cigarette in one hand, dangling by his side. Judging by his face, he can't be much younger than I am, but he looks worn down. A half smile decorates his face as he turns towards me.

"It will be nice to have a travel partner again," he muses as I approach.

"Yea, well, don't get too chummy. We have a schedule to keep, " I sling my pack over my shoulder and start down the path. "We have three stops today, we rest in Goodneighbor, then another two tomorrow."

"Yea, we'll get there." The merc takes a long drag on his cigarette before offering it to me, to which I decline. "He tosses the cigarette into the ocean. "You don't smoke?"

"It's never been my poison," I respond and realize we are passing the Gwinnett Restaurant. I quickly look away from the large barrel entryway, hoping he drops the subject. He shoots a quick look at me, but doesn't press.

Within a few hours, we've reached Jamaica Plain. It is one of the nicer Minutemen settlements, built out of existing prewar buildings. As we approach the main gate, I reach into my coat for the General's seal for the guard to inspect. There is no hassle from the guard.

"What are we here for, anyway?" MacCready asks as he eyes the guard's gun. The guard notices and sets his hand on the gun with a glare.

"Upgrades to the communication system. Each settlement has a terminal linked back to the Castle, and I'm trying to keep the Brotherhood and everyone else out of that link," I smile to myself as I explain. I greatly enjoy my work. We reach the common house and I sit at the terminal.

"Uh huh, sounds boring," he made snoring sounds and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Why? Because it doesn't require bullets or earn you caps?"

He grins and lights up another cigarette while I begin the upgrades.

After Jamaica Plain comes Hangman's Alley and finally the new Railroad Headquarters in Goodneighbor. My eyes are sore, my feet weary and it feels as if there are pins in my heels. Travel in the Commonwealth may be getting safer, but it is never easy.

As we walk out of Railroad HQ the sun is setting, streaks of blue and pink across the sky. The Merc stops me. "I'm heading down to the Third Rail, let me buy you a drink. This time, you stay and drink with me." His smile is inviting so I agree to one drink and follow him down to the old subway.

Oddly, the Third Rail is one of the nicer bars I have been in, despite its location in a shady town. Perhaps misfits take a bit more pride in their home, I wonder. Of course, who am I to call them misfits? I lived here once too.

We take two seats at the bar and the Merc orders us more Nuka Cherry vodkas from the robot bartender. "Charles, when are you going to let me try on that hat?" I tease the robot.

"Miss Snow, I wouldn't let you muss up your hair with this silly hat," he retorts as he places the Nukas in front of us. I knock the cap off with a quick hit on the counter and take a drink.

"You're no stranger to the Third Rail," MacCready has been watching me, "Looks like you've done that a few times."

"Yea, I uh, I've spent some time here," I stutter and my face flushes. I do not want to talk about this.

"You know, this is where I first met Nate," he begins reminiscing, changing the subject. I meet his gaze, interested.

"He was fresh out of the vault. Hired me to watch his back while he got his bearings straight. Must have been quite a change thawing out to a destroyed world."

"It's hard to imagine he ever needed any help." I don't know the General well, but he has always seemed like the calm in a storm.

"Well, we all need help sometimes," his voice drops and for a moment he looks sad. I find myself curious, what help did he need? I decide against asking as the memory of power armor lifting me off the porch runs through my mind, too far gone to get myself into bed.

"Yea. We do," I let out a weak smile and start peeling the label off the Nuka.

Whitechapel Charlie shouts out for last call and I stand to leave, "Thanks for the drink, Merc."

"Thanks for the company," he sets his hand on my shoulder with a half smile. "Let me take care of one small matter and then I'll walk you to your room." He disappears into the back room beneath the VIP sign.

Charlie comes to take our empty bottles, "So you and MacCready are paling around now, eh?"

"What? No no no. Just running a delivery for the Minutemen."

"Relax, gov, I know. MacCready doesn't take women home."

"What?" I am shocked. Quite honest, I think he'd find it easy.

"Yup. Word is he's married," Charlie lifts the merc's Nuka bottle up and shakes it, "Notice he never finishes a drink?"

As MacCready returns, I watch his stride. The cocky attitude, is it all an act? "Ready to go?" He asks and I nod. I stand up and my head spins slightly.

"Lead the way, Merc."

He tosses a handful of caps on the counter and we leave. Walking across town I glance up at the deteriorating skyscrapers around us. Could that much towering metal ever have been beautiful, even before the bombs fell? At least Hotel Rexford still has all its neon.

We both rent rooms from the night staff and head upstairs. Paintings barely cling to the walls and the walls barely cling to the building frame. Yet despite it all, the place still has beauty. The way the flower wallpaper, now faded, still stands out against the wood paneling. Or the way each hallway has a table, with a vase of fresh flowers. Someone still cares about this place.

I pick a flower out of a vase and twirl it around between my fingers. Little things like this persist in the wasteland. I persist too.

"Uh, good night?" MacCready is staring at me and I remember I am not alone. He's holding his cap, revealing a mess of brown hair. It looks soft and thanks to the booze I consider reaching for it. Instead, he takes the flower from me and returns it to the vase. "Get some sleep, tomorrow will be a long day."

"Night, Merc. Be ready at first light."

* * *

In my dreams, I am flying. I once dreamt of taking off in the vertibird, but not since I met Avis. My dreams have evolved into something greater, and now I am the bird. I start running, as fast as I can across a meadow as green as Diamond City and spread my wings out wide. My feet, still running, lift from the ground and I am soaring. There is wind in my face, my hair twisting and twirling behind me as I soar over the land. Greens, blues, yellows, all these bright beautiful colors rush past me in endless quantity.

As quick as it begins, it ends. The colors fade, the wind slows, and I am falling. Plummeting down toward the bomb scorched earth. I close my eyes, shield my face with my arms, and feel my stomach in my throat. As I should hit the ground I am jolted awake.

Awake and alone in a strange hotel room. There is yelling above me, disgusting scents wafting up from below, and a rhythmic banging from the room beside mine. I feel a tear slide down my cheek from the chills of my crash-landing awakening and quickly wipe it away.

No light seeps in through the boarded up window. It is a while before I fall back to sleep.


	4. Chasing Waterfalls

_Snow_  
 _Mountains West of Walden Pond, Outside the Commonwealth_  
 _September 27, 2291_

The sun is setting over the mountains as I approach the cabin, a light glimmer of pink and blue hues graze the treetops. Weapon drawn, I approach the cabin from the back and slide around the wall to the front. Judging by the amount of dirt on the porch, I'd say no one had even passed through in my absence.

Unlocking the door, I step into the only room of the cabin and glance around. To my immediately left is the stove and pantry. In front of the stove is a small round table with two chairs beneath the window, a coffee pot left on the table. To my right, a couch and against the back wall a bed and dresser. It was a cozy cabin, my father's cabin.

The trek here has left my muscles aching and the bed calls to me. I throw down my pack on the couch and take off my travel gear. From my pack I pull out a baggy sweater and toss it over my undershirt, then fall into bed. It is chilly out and I should probably retrieve the blanket from the dresser, but sleep overtakes me quickly.

I don't know how long I've been sleeping when the creak of the door brings me to edge of consciousness. Before I can think to reach for my rifle, the intruder speaks. "Ad Victorium, Snow," he whispers into the dark room. Avis is here. I hear the clunking of metal as he removes his power armor, then a warm hand on my arm. With a gentle squeeze he whispers into my ear, "Go back to sleep, love."

I feel a pang of regret, or maybe exhaustion, as the warmth of his body wraps around me. A love hindered by our alliances and beliefs. One last thought passes through my mind before I succumb to sleep. _I don't want this to end._

* * *

Mornings in the cabin may be my favorite. Avis sits across the table, his face and shirtless abs awash in the sunlight, clutching his coffee and I find myself staring at his tousled dark hair. He catches my stare and raises a muscular arm to run fingers through his hair and straighten it out. He winks, with a smug look on his face. I raise my coffee to my mouth and slowly sip, an attempt to cover my reddening face.

Soon, the coffee is gone and I stand, "Shall we check on our bird?"

He smiles and reaches for my hand, "Yes, ma'am." Before I can shoot him an angered look, he pulls me into his lap. "Where are you taking us today, Cap?" I suppose I can forgive one _ma'am_ , because I love when he calls me Cap.

On the wall is a map Avis scavenged from an old military bunker. Outlined in red is our 'no-fly zone', areas that the Brotherhood actively patrols. X's litter the safe areas, marking all the places we've explored. They are mostly to the north, in western Maine.

Throughout the years, as we've spent evenings on the porch or nights sheltering from the radstorms, Avis has taught me about the prewar commonwealths and states. He has told me his war stories of fighting the Enclave, the remnants of the American government, in the Capital Wasteland. This valorous soldier, so devoted to his duty and honor as a high-ranking Brotherhood officer, yet here he lay in the woods beside a Minuteman. While our factions weren't exactly hostile, they weren't friendly either, and our relationship would be considered treacherous.

Studying the map, I point to a green area between two Xs. "I recall seeing some waterfalls as we flew over this area," I muttered to myself. Avis leans his head in near my ear. "Huh? I can't hear you, Mumbles," his voice is loud in my ear. I jump up to face him, anger rising, but he his quicker. He grabs me by the hips and pulls our bodies together tightly, and his lips find mine. I feel the strength drain from my muscles, arms limp by my sides.

After a few moments, he releases his grip and I stumble back. "I, uh, waterfalls. I saw waterfalls. We could have a picnic."

Avis grins, "How very prewar of you, it would be nice to escape the wastes for a day."

He pulls the map off the wall and skillfully folds it into his pack. I grab a few supplies from the pantry shelves and we head out. The trail to the vertibird is worn down, first passing through the mutfruit orchard and then leading out into the hubflower meadow.

At the far end of the meadow sits the vertibird, covered in branches, moss, and grass. The camouflage is to protect its location from rare Brotherhood air patrols. Avis brushes the coverings off and I hop into the cockpit to run through preflight.

With Avis by my side in this bird, I feel unstoppable. I think back to the night we met. I was drunk, incapable of taking care of myself, barely getting through the days. He saw right through all that, past my desire to be left alone, and helped me recover. Where that kind of luck comes from in this wasteland, I will never know.

I press the controls forward and we lift into the air. I look over at Avis, and he is already looking back. There's something in the way he's watching me, I don't recognize it. I don't like it, either. He half smiles and looks away.

* * *

It's a couple hours before I see the glint of sunlight on water. "There! Do you see that?" I point into the trees where a river twists between rocky shoreline. I look to Avis for a response, and he is watching me. His face is solid, and his eyes stare right through me. "Hey, are you listening?"

His face suddenly comes to life, as if he's been sleeping. "Yeah, water down there. Take her down on the riverbank." I half smile at him, a bit concerned.

Up here in Maine, the land looks untouched by the bombs. Trees grow leafy and green, there are seasons, and even the animals seem unharmed by radiation. I've heard tales of Far Harbor's fog and the terrifying creatures it produces, but out here to the west is like a whole new, or old, world.

I set the bird down in a small sandy clearing and reach for my rifle. We no longer anticipate trouble in this region, we've yet to see a single human, but refuse to be caught off guard. Avis jumps out of the bird first and then turns to lift me down, strong soldier arms hold me by the waist with ease. He pulls me to him for a kiss. "I love you, Snow," he says as my feet reach the ground.

"Yea, me too," I tease disinterest, but his face falls. "Hey, I mean it. I love you too, Avis." I tilt my head and smile an apology.

"Yes, ma'am," his voice barely above a whisper.

 _Ma'am? What has gotten into him?_ I broke him of that habit long ago. It may be required in the Brotherhood, but forbidden around me.

Pack slung over his shoulder, we set out in the direction of the waterfalls. It doesn't take long before we hear the roar of water rushing over a cliff. As we approach from above the falls, I see that there is not one but two large drops in the river. A small, flat rock ledge is nestled between outside the mist.

"Let's settle in there," he suggests. The climb down is easy and soon we are eating our lunch. Mutfruit, a few carrots, a Nuka-Cola to share, and a special surprise I convinced the Castle cook to sell me: radstag jerky. Avis's eyes light up as I unwrap the jerky and for a moment his odd behavior disappears. I consider that maybe he's just been hungry.

Soon after, bellies full, we lay on our backs, my head on his chest. Rainbows dance above us in the fall's mist. He sighs and nuzzles closer. Then the storm hits, or so it feels.

"I'm leaving the Commonwealth, Snow."

"On another mission?"

"No, ma'am," he answers me, emotionless. I don't know how to respond, so we just lay there.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "There's a synth refuge to the north. The Brotherhood army is relocating," he pauses. I can hear the hesitation in his breath. We don't discuss our opinions on synths, or our chosen alliances. "Elder Maxson has..."

"Please don't start this," I sit up and face him and he does the same. "Please don't."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but..."

"No!" My face turns hot and red. I shove against his shoulders in anger, but he doesn't budge. "Don't call me ma'am! Don't talk about the synths or mention that horrible Maxson!" I feel tears splash my cheek.

He pulls me into his arms. "Don't touch me!" I shout in what ends up a whisper, as I let him hold me close. The anger that had risen so quickly drains just as fast and I feel weak. He wipes my face with his sleeve, even as more tears fall. I collapse into him and bury my face. "Will I see you again?" I whisper, and he doesn't answer.

It takes a while before I can speak again, my mind starting to really process the information. "This is why the Brotherhood has left us alone. You've known." He nods and I can tell he doesn't want to start a fight. I close my eyes, an attempt to calm myself. _I have to let him explain, I have to listen_ , I tell myself. "Please, tell me. I'll listen."

"The Minutemen are harboring synths. For a while, we've tried taking them out in transport. I've discouraged the Elder from directly attacking any Minutemen settlements, for you, but that's the most I could do. The Brotherhood doesn't want a war in the Commonwealth, there was never any interest in staying here after destroying the Institute. Elder Maxson was quite embarrassed someone beat him to it." He studies my face before continuing.

"You may be harboring synths, but this refuge to the north," he pauses and lets out a heavy sigh, "Reports have come in that they are creating more synths."

"The Institute?" My body tenses at the thought the Institute may still be out there.

"No," he responds quickly to dispel my fear, "This is a group of synths helping synths. It's more like, reproducing."

I'm not sure how to feel. I've known synths and believed them to have right to a free life, but I also believed in the end to the Institute and synth creation. The Brotherhood, however, believes in eliminating all synths.

"You have to go?" I knew the answer, and he knew what I really meant.

"You know I do, Snow," his face begs me to accept and let it go, but I can't.

"Of course. Duty. Honor," he winces as I mock him, "Ad victori- _shit_!" The harsh, cold, self-destructive girl he chased away with his love is staging a coup within me. His face tells me I'd really hit my mark with that last comment. I couldn't hurt him physically, but damn did my words have power. "It all outranks this. _It outranks us_."

He doesn't defend himself, and so I stand. The half-empty Nuka bottle sits beside him and I take a swing with my foot, knocking it into the river. Then I climb out of the cavern and wander into the woods.

Further and further I walk, kicking at leaves, dirt, flowers, mushrooms, a trail of destruction in the pristine forest. I pay no attention to where I am going or where I come from. What would it matter where I am if Avis is gone? Emotions flood against me and I crumple to my knees beneath a massive tree. My head is filled with the sound of wind and I hold my eyes shut with hands over my ears. It swirls through my mind and I can't think.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. It moves up toward my hair, fingers massage my scalp. Then Avis stops and holds a hand in front of me, palm up. In it sits a white feather. I offer no response, I feel lifeless and close my eyes again.

His fingers return to my hair and I realize he is braiding it. I taught him that, he loved it. He spent hours in the cabin, sitting in bed, practicing. Soon, a single braid runs down my head and across my shoulder. He places the feather into the braid.

"A snowy feather," he muses, "for my Snow."

Dark is falling as he carries me, half asleep, back to the vertibird. I don't remember much about the flight, besides it being cold. In his power armor, he carries me back to the cabin. I stare up at the blank, masked eyes of his helmet, wanting to see his face beneath the steel.

In the bed, he holds me so tight our bodies may as well be one. It is still so cold.


End file.
